“Okay, I was that bad. I think I strained my back once from trying to open a bag of crisps.”
“You’re a dork. But it doesn’t matter now. You can open as many bags of food as you want without injury. That’s huge, babe.”
“I feel ridiculous,” she says into my mouth as I pull her in for a kiss.
“Let them celebrate with you.”
Puffing out a breath of air, she nods and steps back. With a smile that isn’t quite her usual relaxed one, she gives a small wave at people. Stepping back, I motion for our friends to do the same.
“This is all you, Eden. Cross the line.”
“Jesus bloody Christ, you’d think I’d just crossed the desert or something,” she grumbles as she hobbles towards the finish.
The rest of us follow a few meters behind. This way she won’t be dead last. It’s not important, but a part of me wants to take that bit of pleasure away from Kiera, who would no doubt smile at Eden being the last student to finish.
Although she’s embarrassed and muttering, I notice the uptick in her step and the straightening of her posture as the crowd cheers her on. Lucy, from the school paper, takes several photographs which I’m sure will make it onto thefront page for the Monday edition. We have one full week of class left before Spring Break.
Three meters away, and Eden looks over her shoulder at me. I send a wink and a kiss. Two meters, and her hands go to her hips. I can’t see her face, but the way she’s shaking her head from side to side, I know she’s laughing at the absurdity of the situation. She’s right. Everyone is acting like she’s run a full marathon instead of a 5k. One meter and she’s lifting her hands to wave at everyone. I think she’s finally allowing herself to enjoy it.
Her foot crosses the line and her hands rise to the air in celebration. Eden Sawyer, Holcroft’s very own hater of all things aerobic, has just completed a 5k jog/walk.
Spinning carefully on her good ankle, she looks at me with tears in her eyes and a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. This meant a lot to her. More than she probably realized herself.
Watching as friends and family rush over to hug and kiss her, I know I will do anything for her. I’ll do everything in my power to make our relationship work. College is scary, and the distance is daunting, but it’s temporary. Eden is not. I might be young still, a few days away from turning eighteen, but I know what I feel for her is more than a high school crush.
Two percent is a shitty statistic. Does that mean we will automatically be in the ninety-eight percent of couples who won’t make it past ten years? No, it doesn’t. That’ll only happen if I let my fear of change and my anxieties get the better of me.
I want a future full of art, movie nights, and, of course, our walks. I want to stroll down the street with Eden, hand in hand, for as long as she’ll have me.
29
Eden
Well, that was interesting! Never in my life did I think I’d be cheered on by most of my high school while I limped across the finish line of a 5k race. It’s all a bit daft really, but hell if it didn’t lift my mood.
At the beginning of this semester I was more than happy to keep my head down and sail through my senior year with as little attention as possible. Maybe the odd bit of ogling where my favourite cheer captain was concerned. You know, usual teenage stuff.
The academic year has not gone how I planned, like at all!
First and foremost, the object of my crush is now my girlfriend. Let’s sit with that for a sec, yeah? The very gorgeous and gay cheerleading captain is now my girlfriend. Second, and just as equally astonishing as the first thing: I had sex for the first time with said gorgeous cheer captain. Multiple times, and it will happen frequently in the future. [Insert brain blown out emoji here].
Third, on the ever-growing “What the bloody hell is happening this year?” list. I started—voluntarily—participating in sport. And…enjoy it! [insert multiple emojis here].
I’ve been to a high school party, which I didn’t particularly enjoy, but I experienced it all the same. My friendship group has doubled, and Jenna is like thirty percent less Lord of the Damned. I call that a win.
Kiera is the only stain on what has been an impeccable few months—discounting Sloane’s anxiety and how that affected us as a couple. I’m not about to waste my time confronting her about the race. I didn’t see if she tripped me or not, and I’m not fuelling any drama. That’s the one thing I refuse to do. Iwillget through senior year with as little bullshit as possible.
What Sloane will do is a different matter. Hopefully I can talk her out of doing anything too drastic. Kiera isthe sort of person who thrives on attention, positive or not. She’ll eat it up if Sloane goes bat shit crazy on her. It will turn our last semester at Holcroft into something neither of us wants.
I’ll talk to her about it later, though. Right now I’ve got arms wrapping around me left, right, and centre. Pia is on my back shouting “I’m the king of the world” like a lunatic. Bryce and Todd are doing some weird coordinated dance next to me. Bella and Becca are…well they’re kissing, so that’s cool. Sloane is a few feet away, laughing at the mayhem.
Finally, everyone starts to disperse. Mum and Dad step up to me and hug me from both sides.
“Are you okay?” Mum asks. She pulls back and looks down at my scuffed knee.
“It’s fine. Nothing a pack of ice won’t fix.”
Dad claps me on the back. “I never thought I’d see the day, love. You bloody did it!”
